Page 109 of Christmas in Paradise

All I can do is nod.

She asks if I’m okay. Says something about a coat and how I’m shaking.

I say the first words that come to my head and make any sense.

“I can’t do this.”

Hope winces. “What?”

“I can’t do this,” I repeat, stepping backwards. Away from her. Away from the crowd. Away from what just happened.

I turn and see my truck parked across the street on the side of the road. And I run.

Hope calls after me, but I can’t face her right now. I can’t look at Charly and think about how close I came to losing her. And I can’t even entertain the thought of losing Hope. The one thought clearest in my head is that I don’t know what I’m getting myself into. Hope and Charly are going to suffer because of me.

I’m still shaking when I get home. Mom is already there. When I walk in the door, she takes one look at me and panics.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” She rushes to me, takes my arm, and sits me down at the kitchen table.

There’s a cup of tea there. Mom likes chamomile tea before bed. She pushes it toward me. “Drink. Where’s your coat? You’re freezing!”

I take a sip. It’s hot and burns my throat all the way down to my belly. Mom rushes out of the room, coming back a minute later with a big blanket. She wraps it around my shoulders, then sits next to me, staying quiet longer than I ever thought possible.

With more sips of tea, I stop shaking from the cold. But my pulse is still racing.

“Tell me what’s wrong, caro mio,” Mom says.

And I’m ready. I have to talk about it with someone. “Charly almost got run over. If the car hadn’t stopped, we would have both been mowed down.”

Mom gasps. “Are you okay? Is Charly okay?”

I nod, then look at her and shake my head. “I don’t think I am okay.” I dig my palms into my eyes, then look at her again. “How did you do this? How did you lose Dad and not worry every second Stella and me wouldn’t be taken from you too?”

Mom smiles sadly. “Who says I didn’t?”

That’s not the answer I was hoping for and my chest falls. “I can’t live like that. Worrying all the time. Afraid something will happen to the people I love most.”

She sits up tall, no longer smiling. Her face is firm and determined when she takes my face in her hands and forces me to look at her. “You don’t live with worry. You live with joy for every single minute you get with the people you love. And you’re grateful for all of it, even the moments that scare you to death.”

I suck in my breath. It staggers down my throat, past the emotions working their way out of my chest. I drop my head to Mom’s shoulder.

“I’m so scared of not being enough for them. Of taking them away from the support system they already have, only to mess things up.”

“Then you do whatever is in your power to make sure you don’t.”

Mom holds me close, brushing her hand through my hair like she did when I was a little boy. She smells of chamomile and a touch of garlic from the dinner she made earlier. The scent is familiar and comfortable but doesn’t take away my worries.

“There’s no way I won’t mess up.” I stay buried in her arms. “I already have. I told Hope I can’t do this.”

“Of course you made a mistake. No one can be perfect, especially as parents.” Her words are fast, but soothing, and my pulse slows. “I mess up all the time. Every day.”

Now I sit up and look at her. “When have you messed up?”

She purses her lips, thinking hard. “According to Stella, I’ve made mistakes by picking up after you. Treating you like a baby.”

I mirror her pursed lips and creased brow. “We both know she’s wrong.”

“Well then. I take it back. I make no mistakes.” She claps her hands together, and I smile. Then she tilts her head to the side. “Whatever mistake you think you’ve made, you can fix. Whatever mistakes youwillmake, you can fix.”

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